Man's Best Friend
by YeahScience
Summary: Everything changes for Michael Knight, an officer in the LAPD, when he meets his new partner: the K9 Intelligent Talking Tactician, Kitt the police dog! Dog!KITT AU where Michael is a police officer and Kitt is his talking K9 companion! Please R&R!
1. Partners in Crime

Hey y'all! I've had this idea floating around in my head for a loooooong time. I finally decided to indulge it, and loved writing it. I couldn't find any fics with the same plot, so I decided to publish it here. I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as I do. Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Thanks, and happy reading! ~YeahScience

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It was days like this that made Michael Knight hate his job. After all that hard work at the Academy and graduating at the top of his class, only to end up a desk jockey… He was an officer of the LAPD; so why the hell was he sitting here filling out paperwork for the 50th fender bender this week? Frustrated and bored, he popped another donut hole into his mouth ( _I am NOT your stereotypical donut loving cop_ , he thought defiantly) before walking to the water cooler to stretch his legs.

His boss, Devon, was sitting in his office and chugging away at who knows what. Now, that man was a workaholic. Despite the inhuman amount of paperwork he handled on a daily basis, his desk was always impeccably clean. Devon had arranged all of his office supplies quite aesthetically on his desk, but never kept any decorations or photos.

When Michael passed by the open office door, Devon looked up and followed the officer with his eyes, staring fixatedly.

 _If he wants me to spend more time at my desk, he can raise my salary,_ Michael thought sourly, but good-naturedly. Respect was paramount here: you gave it, you got it. If you didn't like that, don't let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.

Michael's coworker, Reginald (most of the guys on the force called him RC3), was also getting a drink at the cooler. The two men exchanged smiles and nods, but no words. Michael didn't know RC3 very well, aside from "Hi, how's things," but he was always a cheery and light-hearted presence around the office. On days like today, he was a Godsend.

"Hey, Knight," RC3 began with a devilish gleam in his eye. "I gotta tell you about this guy I pulled over the other day."

Michael snorted. "Okay, I'll bite. What about him?"

RC3 grinned even wider and his eyes lit up. "Okay, so I pull this guy over for a busted taillight. I told him it was gonna cost $300."

"So what'd he say?"

"He says, 'Go ahead! The mechanic wants to charge me 500 bucks!'" RC3 burst into hysterics at his own joke. Yeah, it was lame, but Michael had to laugh. Patting the other officer on the back, Michael trudged back to his desk. Devon was still staring at him.

By now, the pile of paperwork had sprouted two horns and a devil tail. It reached out, threatening to pull Michael in and drown him in inkjet paper and petty claims. He responded only with a grimace before peeling off the top sheet and jogging his computer from its well-deserved sleep.

Once the monitor had booted up, Michael went to open his files. But before he could, the computer dinged and a notification popped up in the corner of the screen.

TO: MICHAEL KNIGHT

FROM: DEVON MILES

SUBJECT: NEW PROJECT

Knight,

Please meet me in the old break room at your earliest convenience.

The cop's mind went blank for a few seconds. Devon was not one for ambiguity. So why the complete lack of detail in the email? Also, nobody used the old break room. It was dark, musty, and didn't have air conditioning. The new break room was much better (it had a coffee machine!). Why meet there, and not in Devon's office?

Michael turned his head to look at the paperwork again. He gave the stack an imaginary middle finger and stood up from his desk. As he walked down the station hallway towards the old break room, several fellow officers turned their heads. All thinking the same thing as Knight: _what the hell is he doing?_

As if this sudden turn of events couldn't get any stranger, Michael walked into the break room to find the lights on with Devon sitting at one of the tables. Next to him was a brunette woman in a lab coat. _She's pretty,_ came Michael's first thought. He was so entranced by her rich brown hair that he didn't even notice the strange blanket-covered box by her feet.

Taking direction from Devon, he sat across the table from them. When the awkward silence strung out too long, he broke it. "So, Lieutenant Miles. What is this new project you emailed me about?"

Devon and the woman exchanged sideways glances.

"Officer Knight, this is Dr. Bonnie Barstow, a veterinarian." The woman gave a sweet smile and a small nod. She extended her delicate hand towards Michael, giving a disproportionately strong handshake.

"Dr. Barstow," Michael paused. "You're the vet for our K9 unit, right?"

She kept smiling. "Yes, I am." Then she turned to Devon.

"Bonnie and I have been working on a project for the past couple months. Something that we hope can really make a difference when it comes to protecting the law in this city. The final piece of this puzzle, though is an officer. Someone we believe has great potential in law enforcement."

This whole time, excitement was bubbling up in Michael, threatening to boil over. Like a kid on Christmas, his mind kept repeating, _I hope it's a dog, I hope it's a dog!_ Now his eyes were fixated on what he prayed was a crate, the cube with the seafoam-colored blanket draped over it, sitting patiently at the vet's feet.

"We know you haven't been as active in the field as both of us would've liked," Devon continued. "But we started this project with you in mind. You were top of your class, and unfortunately, bureaucracy has stuck you behind a desk. We hope this makes up for it." Giving a nod to Bonnie, she reached down and yanked the blanket off of the crate.

Michael had to exercise all self-restraint to keep from squealing with joy. Inside the metal crate was a tiny German Shepherd puppy.

Bonnie opened the crate and the little guy padded out. His coat was thick and glistening with health. Both of his ears were so big that they flopped (adorably to the side). Jet black fur covered most of his small, yet well-framed body, except for tawny legs and patches around his cheeks, eyebrows, and one ear. Around his neck was a peculiar collar: resembling an electric fence collar with a radio receiver on it, but with an LED screen with a red bar flashing back and forth.

"Officer Knight, say hello to your new partner!" Dr. Barstow exclaimed with pride. Michael immediately bent down to scratch the little guy behind his ears. The puppy's mouth dropped open and his pink tongue lolled out.

Chuckling, Devon spoke up. "This is the K9 Intelligent Talking Tactician." Michael didn't hear a word his boss said; he was preoccupied with the pup, who was batting at the cop with an oversized paw. Bonnie looked at the tiny animal, beaming with pride as though she were its mother.

"Well, aren't you going to introduce yourself?" Bonnie cooed. Michael gave her a strange look, then continued petting the dog.

A strange, computerized voice squeaked out of the dog's collar. "I am the voice of the K9 Intelligent Talking Tactician. K.I.T.T. Kitt, if you prefer."

Now Michael's jaw had dropped. He stared blankly at the puppy, who only stared back with wide, dark-brown eyes.

"Did that dog just talk?"


	2. Field Testing

Hey everybody! Thank you so much for the positive reviews. Sharing my stories is great, but it's even better when I know others enjoy them. Here is the next chapter, which is a little longer since I couldn't split it up. Please continue to leave reviews, I really appreciate it! Update coming by the weekend, most likely!

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"Well, not the dog per se," Dr. Bonnie Barstow piped up. "Kitt has a microchip implanted in the residual speech center of his brain, which we altered to be much larger than your average canine. The microchip picks up on Kitt's linguistic "thoughts" and transmits that to the voice transponder on his collar. With intensive training, we have made him as fluent as a college professor."

Michael responded only with a blank stare. The veterinarian rolled her eyes. "Yes, Michael, the dog talked."

"Kitt is about 6 weeks old, and he still has a lot of training to do," Miles began. "But we feel now is the right time to introduce you to this process. Get you two accustomed to working together. Once this training is done, we expect you two will be the most important asset that we have here at the LAPD. What do you think?"

 _I don't even know what to think,_ Michael paused. _I wanted a police dog. And I wanted to be more involved in the field. So why do I feel reserved about this? I should be jumping with joy._ His eyes flashed to the little pooch at his feet. The dog looked just as excited: fur on end, mouth hanging open, tail wagging. He tilted his disproportionately large head and stared at his master with even larger eyes. Kitt was playing tag with Knight's heartstrings, and it wasn't hard to determine who was winning.

The officer cleared his throat. "I'd love to be involved." The vet, the lieutenant, and the dog all smiled broadly.

"Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Mr. Knight," Kitt said from under the table. He extended his paw as if wanting to shake.

"Aww, he knows tricks!" Michael had to exclaim. Immediately, the German Shepherd puppy withdrew his foot.

"I do not do _tricks_ ," the puppy growled. "I am a multimillion dollar veterinary achievement. Not some lap dog." Michael looked as though he'd been slapped across the face. _The dog's a little touchy._ He didn't dare say that out loud, though.

"Anyway," Devon butted in before the dog started an all-out turf war. "The next couple weeks, we'd like you to abandon your desk job- which I'm sure you'd be glad to."

"And you'd be damn right about that."

Devon chuckled, then continued. "Yes, and you'd be working on various exercises with Kitt, learning about each other and the protocol that we have written for using deploying in the field. It's important that you understand each other's' limits and know when to push beyond them."

"Kitt has been bred and biologically designed to be, for lack of a better word, 'better' than other dogs," said Dr. Barstow. "He is stronger, faster, smarter… and there's still progress to be made. With a lot of hard work on his and your parts, Kitt will be a K9 officer the likes of the world has never seen before."

All eyes fell on the puppy underneath the table. He had closed his mouth and curled his tail up underneath him, trying his best to adopt the stance of a regal and mature hound. Despite his efforts, Michael still saw him as just a puppy. Granted, German Shepherds were way above average in pretty much every evaluation category- that's why the police force used them- but this barely month-old animal was anything but intimidating.

He couldn't help but feel proud of the little guy, though. Maybe because he was finally getting a promotion, and the dog was just an added bonus. Why did he want a dog in the first place? Michael was a notorious bachelor and while he searched for a worthwhile woman, he needed a buddy to keep him company. _A "friend," I guess._

"So when do we start?"

Well, now regret had caught up with him. His shrieking alarm clock quite rudely alerted him that is was 5 AM, on the dot. _Why the hell do I have to report for duty at 0630? That is ridiculous! On most days, I don't show up at the station until 8 at the earliest!_

Letting the silky sheets fall off, he slunk out of the bed and hobbled into the kitchen. When he opened the fridge, nothing greeted him except a half-gallon of skim milk. He signed. _Looks like breakfast is gonna have to be a bowl of cereal. Again._

Michael tried his best to make his grotesque, early-morning zombie figure at least somewhat palatable. He ran his fingers through his fluffy, curly bed head, splashed some water on his face

He'd only been given a new address to report to: no dress code. So he put on his standard navy uniform, taking special care to straighten all the buttons and patches. Whereas yesterday, he loathed his predictable career, he was now legitimately for the unknown day ahead of him. Now, Michael was by no means a philosopher, but he couldn't help but smile at the way life toyed with him.

Nobody in the apartment complex was awake when Michael stepped out of his door. He took care to close and lock the door quietly and tiptoed downstairs to the complex garage.

Sitting in his parking spot was his best friend: his car. Just like your average macho man, Knight had a preeten-like obsession with classic muscle cars. So, after scraping together enough savings, he bought himself a 1982 Pontiac Trans Am. Black, sleek, angular, and powerful, just like a car should be. Since he never used it, his squad car was sitting and gathering dust in the station lot.

The Trans Am purred with delight when Michael turned the ignition. Its headlights snapped up and the transmission caught right away. Like a well-trained dog. With finesse, the pair backed out of the space and started towards the address Devon had emailed him. It was in a rundown industrial neighborhood, pretty much abandoned by the city planners. Not much went on there. Nothing good, at least.

The address directed him towards a worn-down warehouse sort of structure. The discolored beige paint on the outside chipped off in great scales and the metal garage door was rusty and creaked in the faint summer wind. Nevertheless, Devon's undercover cop car was parked in front. Michael parked alongside him and hesitantly left his car.

He entered the building through the gray steel door next to the giant garage door: unlocked. What he found inside did not match the drab exterior of the building.

Light streamed in from great windows all along the walls just below the ceiling, supplemented by dozens of fluorescent panels. Just like the floors, the walls were immaculate concrete. Scattered around the glossy concrete floors were various obstacles: a target dummy, hoops of various heights, vinyl tunnels, balance beams, and a tall wood panel that the army used to train soldiers to climb. _This looks like something you'd find in Area 51 for training alien gymnasts,_ Michael thought.

Devon, Bonnie, and Kitt were there to greet him. This time, the pup was dressed in a navy blue vest to match Michael, loaded with pockets and even a tiny badge. Just like Michael's name tag read "KNIGHT," the dog had one reading "KITT." He would have been cute, if the dog didn't have such an intimidatingly serious look blazing in its eyes.

"Good morning, Michael," all three said in unison. The dog curled its tail tightly beneath it to hide that it was wagging with excitement. The officer nodded and walked up to pet the dog. With a look of disdain, Kitt allowed it.

Devon began yet another one of his infamous grand soliloquys. "Dr. Barstow has prepared for Kitt a rigorous obstacle course to test his enhanced abilities. She's devised a brilliant training regimen of agility, stamina, and power, all of which to push Kitt to his designed biological maximum. As such, she has taken various equipment from our K9 program in addition to obstacles from traditional agility courses. This will be Kitt's first battery trial, so we'd like you to observe."

"You ready, Kitt?" Bonnie asked the puppy in a chipper tone. He yipped back and stood, taking on an attack stance. His small yet powerful muscles bunched up, rippling his coat, and his fur stood on end. A daring snarl waved across his mouth. He held this form for several seconds. Michael looked at Bonnie, waiting for her to give the order. She stared back.

"You're his partner, Michael," she urged. "He takes direction from you."

"Oh," the cop started. He continued without grace. "Uh, Kitt," the Shepherd's ears swiveled to hear his master's voice. "Go!"

Kitt's speed was unprecedented. When he ran, he galloped like a horse, with all four paws off of the ground. His sheer speed flattened all of his hairs flat against his skin, giving his coworkers a fantastic view of his pumping muscles. His eyes never left his target: the dummy looming in front of him. Baring his teeth, he leapt right at the mannequin's exposed neck without hesitation. When he snapped down on the jugular, the momentum of his swift body sent him spinning around the body; however, Kitt had anticipated this, and whipped his neck at the exact right moment, landing gracefully on the ground with a ragged hunk of fabric and stuffing.

Michael was in awe, while Bonnie had a smug grin on her face. Next for the dog was a rapid series of hoops, getting progressively higher. Kitt leapt through the first one with ease. His front paw pads landed softly on the concrete, and all the energy transferred from his front half to his back half as he sprang back up with twice the height. Devon gasped audibly.

As Kitt pulled a hairpin turn at the opposite end of the warehouse, he shot an overjoyed look at his fans. Michael gave him two thumbs way up. The puppy snaked through several tunnels and leapt onto the balance beam. He didn't even break his stride and did not waver as he pelted down the beam.

Now Kitt was approaching the final obstacle: the climbing wall. It stood about 10 feet tall, completely flat and giant stacked pieces of lumber. Even Michael would struggle to make it over the top. Of course, his canine companion made it look easy. The dog bunched its legs for the final time and leap about ¾ of the way up the wall. His claws dug into the soft wood and he scaled up the final quarter like a cat. With his tail high and wagging, ears perked and chest heaving, Kitt came to a screeching halt in front of the cops.

Bonnie took the stethoscope from around her neck and bent over to auscultate the animal. "Perfect," she beamed. "He didn't even break a sweat! I mean, if he could sweat."

Devon was speechless. Michael was not, however, and dropped to his knees to praise the dog.

"Kitt," he breathed. "That was amazing! I mean, just incredible! I've never seen a dog do that, let alone a puppy!"

The Shepherd nodded curtly. "Thank you, Michael. I doubt you've ever seen a dog quite like me, though."


	3. Lassie Come Home

Hey y'all! Thank you so much for all the positive vibes. Really, it means so much. Please enjoy this next installment of my fic! I don't know when the next chapter will be out, but shouldn't be too far away. I have a ton of stuff going on right now, but also a fair amount of time to work on it. So keep a lookout for updates. Thanks again!

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Bonnie reached into her pocket and pulled out a small chewy treat for the little pup, which he devoured in a second flat. Michael gave Kitt another pat on the head, and he yipped. Tail wagging, tongue lolling: the dog was eating up all the excitement and attention.

"So, Michael," the vet began. "Are you ready to take him home?"

Michael froze. "Take him home?"

The brunette stared back at him like he had 3 eyes. "…yes, Michael, Kitt will be living with you."

"K9's live with their officers?" Michael asked, dumbfounded. He turned to Devon for affirmation, who nodded.

"Yes, Knight," he hummed. "The dogs don't live at the station. An officer's dog lives with him just like any other pet dog. You'll have to feed him, walk him, train him, play with him, housebreak him-"

"He's not housebroken?!" Michael cried. Kitt's ears flattened against his head and his tail curled beneath his bum in shame. Bonnie hushed the cop and picked up the dog, scratching behind his ears.

"He's just a puppy, Michael," she cooed, not taking her eyes off the dog. "They can't just be potty trained, there is an element of physiological development that has to happen for him to control his bladder."

"You said he's as smart as a college professor or whatever. How many professors do you know walking around in diapers?" Michael scoffed. Kitt bared his teeth and uttered a high-pitched, yet slightly menacing growl.

"How many cops do you know that can't perform integral and multivariable calculus simultaneously?" Kitt sniped. "I'll put it in terms you can understand: a very large number." Eyebrows all around raised at the little puppy's attitude. The hair on both the dog's and his owner's neck stood up in anticipation of an altercation.

"Okay!" Bonnie clapped her hands to break up the fight before it began. "Sounds like Kitt is getting a little fussy. After all that hard work today, I'd say he's earned a nap. So how about you take him home, Michael, and let him rest for a little bit? It'll do both of you a world of good."

 _Great, a bundle o' joy running around an apartment that's barely big enough for me._ But how could he resist those massive, watery eyes, the tiny moist nose, and the massive paws just itching to give a hug? At the end of the day, a puppy is an amazing gift, one that Michael Knight didn't have the heart to turn down. You can't look a gift horse in the mouth. Or, a gift super-K9, that is.

Squirming with delight, the dog looked wildly up at his new owner. "Okay, boy," he teased. "Wanna go for a ride in the car?" In spite of himself, trying in vain to maintain a professional demeanor, the Shepherd bounded towards the Trans Am and vaulted into the passenger's seat.

"Alright," Michael sighed as he cranked his car into reverse and backed out of the compound, waving a quick goodbye to Bonnie and Devon on his way out. "Where should we go to first, buddy?"

"You are the mission operative, Michael," the dog said matter-of-factly. "That is your decision."

"Well, uh," he considered. "I don't have any dog stuff around the house. We should probably start at Petco or something."

The puppy nodded. "Very astute deduction, Michael." The cop definitely picked up on the sarcasm in the little mutt's voice, but didn't call him on it.

On a whim, he rolled down the passenger side window. Kitt immediately sat up on his haunches and licked at the cool stream of air that slid in through the crack. Michael pushed it down a little lower so the dog could stick his head out. The blast of wind flattened the K9's ears against his head, which were already back from elation. He wrenched his jaw open as far as possible, and the wind caused his cheeks to puff up and his tongue to flap back and forth like a slimy pink flag.

"Oh, Michael," he bellowed. "This is incredible! I'd say 'speed up,' but you're already going 5 miles per hour over the legal limit!" Nevertheless, Michael indulged his partner's request.

They did slow down as he pulled into the Petco parking lot, however. Kitt wagged his tail when he spotted the storefront. He may have been bred to be a super-genius or whatever Bonnie had done, but deep down, he was still a dog.

"Let's go, my man!" Michael cried. He opened up Kitt's door and the dog sprang out. Nevertheless, he sat obediently at his master's heels. "Alright," Michael cautioned, adopting a stern demeanor. "Behave in there. When you walk into that store, as far as everyone inside knows, you're just a regular puppy. Nothing more. Go it?"

The "regular puppy" yipped and nodded his head in agreement. Michael started off towards the store with Kitt trotting alongside him.

Of course, as soon as they entered the store, employees and customers squealed at the sight of the little guy. A young boy bent down to pat his head, and Kitt licked his hand amicably, eliciting a delighted cry.

An employee spoke up. "Sir, your dog is going to need to be on a leash."

"Oh, he's already trained." The cashier gave the pair a suspicious side eye and watched them carefully as they began their trip.

As obedient as ever, Kitt stayed within inches of Michael's heels the entire time, scanning the area for nonexistent threats. _I can tell him to turn off his voice box,_ Michael pondered. _But not his instincts._

The first item on the cop's mental list was some kind of dog food. Bonnie hadn't mentioned if the super-dog needed special kibble or anything, so he picked up a 10-pound bag of puppy chow. Kitt whined and pawed at his feet though. Michael went to add another bag to the cart and Kitt wagged his bushy tail approvingly. He got one last bag and said sternly at his dog, "That's it. You're done."

 _Okay,_ Michael thought, checking his imaginary shopping list again. _He'll need food dishes and a bed._ The two guys had a wide variety of designs and colors. "Go on, pick out your favorite one, mister." Kitt grabbed a blue plastic bowl with little yellow paw prints on it and dropped it at his master's feet. Michael threw a second one in the cart, along with the matching bed. The grooming aisle caught his eye and he briefly considered Kitt's thick coat before swiping a brush and some shampoo.

 _He already has a collar, and he won't need a leash. Probably should get him treats and toys. He is just a kid, after all._ "Okay, buddy, last thing," Michael instructed joyfully. "Go pick out a toy while I get you some treats." Kitt scrambled down to the end of the aisle, captivated by the vast selection as Knight did the same. He settled on beef flavored treats when his K9 companion returned. From his mouth hung not one, but two toys: a stuffed squirrel and a rawhide bone. Kitt pulled the puppy dog eyes and broke Michael.

Their grand total rang up to just over $150. _I expect to be reimbursed for this,_ the cop grumbled. With too few hands to carry all the bags, he handed the plastic bag of treats and toys to the dog. Head held high, Kitt carried it swinging from his mouth as passersby stared in awe.

"Okay, buddy," Michael sighed. "Let's take you home."


	4. Little Doggy

Hello everybody! Kind of a shorter chapter this time, but I wanted to get something posted since it's been a while. I hope you like it! If you did, leave me a comment! I love hearing from my readers. Hopefully, I will be able to write a little more now that midterms are over. Who knows? As always, thank you for reading. Hope y'all have a nice day! : ) ~YS

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Kitt's literal puppy-dog eyes lit up when Michael's home came into view, then dimmed when he saw it was an apartment.

"You live in an apartment, Michael?" the dog asked with feign inquisition.

"Yeah," Michael replied skeptically. "Why?"

"I'm just not sure this environment is conducive to a canine. Does your landlord allow pets?"

"There's a weight or height limit or something," he muttered. "But since you're technically a service animal or something, I get a special exception."

When they parked, Kitt planted his oversized paws firmly against the window and surveyed the entire scene, tail wagging and tongue lolling. Michael opened the door and Kitt leapt out, landing gracefully. As they walked into the building, in perfect sync, the elevator dinged and a frail elderly woman hobbled out: with a ratty Shih Tzu scurrying at her heels. Immediately, the German Shepherd puppy went on the defense as the electric tension in the air spiked up his scruff.

The woman's dog, on the other hand, did not perceive any threat. His cross-eyed eyeballs stared dumbly in front of him. When he picked up on Kitt's scent, however, he gave a shrill yip and waddled over. Michael's partner growled and bared massive ivory fangs. The lap dog slithered around to his backside and without warning, quite rudely shoved his nose towards Kitt's butt.

"HEY!" he exclaimed, tucking his tail and whirling to face his assaulter. Then, remembering that he wasn't supposed to talk in front of others, he switched back to nonverbal canine body language. With all his power bunched in his hindquarters, he snarled at the ditsy dog.

Michael cleared his throat harshly in a sort of "calm down" gesture towards his hound. "Sorry, ma'am," he said to the old woman.

"What was that, sonny?" she bellowed. Michael only waved his hand and walked away, shooting Kitt a sideways glance of disapproval.

The dog took the stairs two at a time, stopping to wait for Michael at every landing. Finally, they arrived at Michael's floor. He led the dog down the hallway, and the pooch sniffed along its entire length. Even the super-dog couldn't keep his tail from wagging with anticipation.

Sadly, he was in for a rude awakening. Kitt had been daydreaming of his partner's house: open floor plan, fully renovated, with giant windows (and a doggy door, of course), and a room just for him with a miniature treadmill, a bin overflowing with toys, a giant feather bed, and towering bowls of food and treats.

What greeted him was, well, a bachelor pad. The only thing overflowing was the garbage can, and its presence made itself known immediately through an assault on Kitt's nostrils. Every surface was covered with clutter, and the clutter was covered with a thick layer of grunge. The layout was cramped and blocky, with little natural light. The corners of the entryway were padded with shoes, jackets, and dirty laundry.

Michael saw the disappointment in his dog's eyes. "Sorry, buddy," he whispered. "I'll clean up a bit. Obviously, I wasn't expecting anybody but me to be living here."

"You and roaches," Kitt sniped, earning an eye-roll from Michael. He put down the bulging plastic bags of dog supplies on the counter and pawed through them. First things first, he figured the dog should always have access to food and water. So he took out the two bowls, filling one with water from the tap and the other with a scoop out of the dog food bag. The bowl hadn't even touched the floor by the time the puppy leapt towards it. Immediately, Kitt inhaled the kibble with such gusto that Michael was afraid he would choke. In a mere 30 seconds, the food bowl was as empty as before the cop had filled it.

The dog licked his lips and sat back on his haunches with a satisfied burp.

"You've got quite the appetite, don't you, Kitt?" Michael breathed, mainly surprised that the little pup could pack away so much food in such a short time.

Kitt nodded. "When you're a genetically engineered super-dog, you've got a genetically engineered super-metabolism." Then his eyelids began to droop and the food coma set in. His paws scrambled to keep his new, bloated center of gravity. Warmth spread through Michael's chest as his heart melted at the sight.

He grabbed the dog bed off of the counter and led the pup to his bedroom. Kitt padded along, swaying slightly. The cop set the bed down in the corner of the room and fluffed it up. His Shepherd flumped down on the soft fabric and his eyes snapped shut almost immediately.

Michael snuck out of the room and left the door open a little crack. In the kitchen, he unpacked the rest of the supplies and put them away in various cupboards and drawers. Most just stayed on the counter in "organized piles."

For some reason, he'd lost all of his energy: just drained, fatigued. _I've only been with Kitt for a few hours,_ he remarked. _And he's already worn me out? If I have to live with him for years, how am I gonna handle that?_ The clock on the microwave read 8:12 PM. For any sensible man, that was too early to turn in. But hell, Michael Knight wasn't a sensible man. He had a talking K9 partner. If he wanted to adopt a preschooler's bedtime, he damn well would.

When Michael reentered his bedroom, Kitt's bed was empty. The officer's stomach dropped rapidly and his heart leapt into his throat. _Oh no,_ he panicked. _Oh no oh no oh no, where is he? Did I lose him? Did he run away?!_

Fortunately, none of those theories were true. Kitt had curled up on Michael's pillow, transformed into a tiny, snoring ball of auburn fur. The ball inflated and deflated rhythmically with each of the dog's deep breaths, each exhale marked with a light snore. An unmistakable smile was spread across his muzzle. Every few seconds, his ears or paw twitched. The little guy was dreaming.

This sight was so cute, in fact, that Michael disregarded that a 5-pound puppy had taken over his queen sized mattress. The cop wiggled out of his uniform and into his pyjama pants, sliding into bed next to his dog. He laid facing the pup, with one hand draped across its back.

They fell asleep with their gentle breaths in perfect sync.


	5. Why We Do What We Do

Hey y'all! I am back! It's been a loooong time, sorry about that. Work was crazy, school was crazy, the weather was crazy, but now things are a TON calmer, which leaves me with more time to write! So I just uploaded a new chapter of collab fic (insert shameless plug here), and I wanted to update this one as well!

This chapter is a bit longer, and more serious. It features Kitt and Michael getting their first official case- yay! There might be some canon errors- I don't know much about law enforcement, nor do I really understand RC3's character. Please PM me for corrections or suggestions.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoy my work. If you do, please leave a review!

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Kitt was right on time for the 6:30 AM wake-up call. Problem is, Michael didn't order said wake-up call. It was a pleasant morning surprise.

"Good morning, Michael," the dog barked, quite literally bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. The cop on the other hand was a right mess: hair matted, clothes wrinkled, etc.

"U'wah?" he grumbled. "Kitt? Wuh time izit?"

"It is currently 0630 hours," he responded in as chipper a tone as ever. "At your normal pace, this schedule should put you arriving at the station exactly 15 minutes early. Right on time."

Michael stayed stubbornly in bed and managed to shake off a little of his fatigue. The force (of inertia) was strong with this one. "How can one be 'right on time' and also '15 minutes early,' Kitt?" he growled.

The dog growled right back. "As Lieutenant Miles always says, 'If you're not early, you're late.' And as of right now, we are late by anyone's definition." With that, the dog leapt off the bed and trotted into the kitchen. Michael followed suit reluctantly, shuffling along behind his K9.

The puppy was seated patiently in the middle of the tile floor. His wagging tail swatted dust bunnies and loose pieces of kibble across the kitchen and under the fridge. A thin string of drool began inching out of his open, panting mouth. Michael could even hear the little guy's stomach growl. His patient yet enthusiastic waiting was almost… adorable.

He set out a heaping mound of dog food, which Kitt devoured with ferocity. Michael left the hound to lick up the scraps and set to finding himself a spot of breakfast. _There's that milk from yesterday,_ he thought. There was little else in his bare cupboards, but he managed to scrounge up a loose packet of instant oatmeal. It looked suspiciously like Kitt's dog food, which didn't shake up the officer's appetite.

After a few minutes of stirring the bland paste and watching it solidify on the spoon, Michael was sufficiently disgusted and void of appetite. But, when he looked down to check on his partner, the dog was gone.

"Kitt?" Michael called. "Where are you, buddy?"

The few seconds of silence struck fear into Michael's heart like an ice pick. Sure enough, however, the canine called back.

"Coming, Michael!" His voice sounded muffled as though he had something in his mouth. _Hope he hasn't gotten into any trouble._

Quite the contrary. When the dog reappeared from the bedroom, he was carrying with him Michael's uniform: shirt, pants, socks, badge and all. The tiny dog did his best to keep the suit from dragging on the ground, holding his head up high in the process. Kitt had even managed to put on his _own_ uniform. The vest fit snuggly on his barrel chest, which glistened with health and vitality. Kitt really was a prime specimen of the canine species.

"Why thank you, Kitt!" Michael gushed, and he meant it. Nobody had ever been so thoughtful and helpful. Well, no dog, that is…

"Anytime, Michael," the dog nodded. "Dr. Barstow sent me a message to my radio collar last night. Apparently, she has a new gadget for you. She'd like to meet with you for a few minutes and get it set up before Lieutenant Miles sees us."

Michael paused. "Lt. Miles wants to meet with us? Why is that?"

"To get our first assignment, of course!" Kitt tilted his head. "Did you not get the email?" The only response from his human counterpart was a blank stare. "Do you even check your email?"

"Look, home life is home life. And I try to keep work stuff at work. I mean, except for you."

The two continued preparing themselves for the day ahead. Michael had just finished up brushing his teeth when he heard Kitt whining in the kitchen. _Was that dog already hungry_ again _?!_

Instead, he found Kitt sitting and squirming right by the front door. His nails clicked out a rapid rhythm and he shifted weight from paw to paw. He was whining lightly too, with his ears flattened against his head.

"What's wrong, buddy?"

"Michael," Kitt hissed, straining. "I need to go out."

Realization struck. "Oh… okay, um, just hold on until I get my jacket on." The human fumbled with his keys and coat, did a quick sweep of the foyer to check that he didn't forget anything, then pulled open the apartment door. Kitt bolted out and down the hallway, put had to stop at the stairwell door.

"I'm coming!" his handler reassured.

The pair took the stairs two at a time. When they reached the lobby of the building, the puppy dashed past someone who was walking through the door into the complex. He ran right up to the nearest tree.

In the meantime, Michael fiddled with his keys, popped open the door to his Trans Am, climbed in, and started the machine. Sitting in the driver's seat and looking over at the empty passenger one made him feel strangely lonely. But also glad. After all these years flying solo, he finally had a friend to share in his adventures.

Speaking of, his friend was now sitting outside the passenger side door, scratching it ever so lightly and whining to be let in. Instead of reaching over to open the door, Michael just rolled down the window and trusted that Kitt the Super-Dog could find a way in. He did, leaping up and scrambling through the opening.

Reading his partner's mind, the officer left the window cracked so that the dog could stick his head out and enjoy the blast of wind to his face.

Michael turned on the radio. Hearing that Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" was playing, he cranked up the speakers until he felt the car's chassis rumble from the bass. A devilish grin eked across his face. _God, I love this car._

Kitt cocked his head dramatically. He processed for a few seconds, then whipped his head backwards and began to howl. The very soundwaves traveled through the cop's ear canals and stabbed them with sonic knives. Judging from his size, one would've expected Kitt to have a tiny, squeaky howl characteristic of your average puppy. But this one combined the timbre of a train horn with the pitch and intensity of an ambulance siren.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, the other of the cop's hands flew to his ear. "Kitt!" he exclaimed. "Pipe down, will ya?"

The dog snapped his muzzle shut. "Sorry, Michael. That was just instinct… The way that man on the radio was singing, I wanted to join in."

"Okay, buddy. How about you let Steve Perry sing this one, eh?"

He did. But the car ride was almost over, for the station was appearing over the horizon.

Once the pair walked inside, all heads turned. Word of the new K9 officer must have spread like wildfire through the department.

Kitt's ears perked up as he focused on several whispers. _Knight… Cute… German Shepherd… lucky…_ Always on the alert, he padded carefully through the desks, sniffing each worker and tasting the air for flavors of danger.

Several hands leapt out at the little puppy, causing him to balk. It was as though caution itself was imbedded in his DNA. Trust nobody, take nothing for granted. There were threats everywhere. Especially that strange machine behind the secretary. Whole sheets of paper went in, and nothing but flimsy ribbons came out. _Some kind of barbaric torture device?_

RC3 came bounding up to the pair. Kitt saw Michael's acceptance of the man and gave him the benefit of the doubt.

"Hey, man," the strange cop greeted the other. "We heard you got a new K9, man. That's far out. What's his name?"

Michael grinned and nudged the dog with his shoe. "Yup, RC, this is Kitt!"

RC practically squealed. He crouched down and stretched out a hand to the Shepherd, who cautiously accepted the advance. "Hey little guy, aren't you just the sweetest! How did you get stuck with a washed-up cop like Knight?"

Fury roared up inside Kitt. Verbal abuse on his handler- he would not stand for it! But Michael was laughing. Maybe the threat went over his head. Nevertheless, the behind-the-ear scratch that the dog was receiving was absolutely delightful. A strange purring noise escaped his throat.

"You guys have any cases yet?" RC asked, directing his attention back to the fellow human.

"Not yet, bud," Michael responded. "Hopefully soon, though, I bet Kitt here is anxious to get out of training and into the field." He paused. "Me too, for that matter."

As if almost on cue, Lt. Miles called out for Knight and his dog. With a quick goodbye to RC3, they headed straight into their commander's office. He and Dr. Barstow were waiting for them.

The veterinarian immediately stood up and handed Michael a fancy and high-tech looking watch.

"Why thanks Bonnie," he said with exaggerated gratitude. "How did you know I was in the market for a watch, and a nice one at that?"

She rolled her eyes in good nature. " _That,_ Michael, is a communications linking device. A ComLink, for short. It's something that my team has been working on. It just took a little longer, because some stuff came up." Kitt picked up on the strange exchange of glances between his creator and their boss. "Anyway, this device has a remote connection to the frequency given off by Kitt's cerebral microchip. It will allow you to communicate at greater distances. Try it out."

Michael strapped the watch onto his wrist, then flicked it with his fingers a few times. "IS IT WORKING?" he shouted into the microphone.

Kitt yelped, collapsed, and pawed at his ears that flattened against his head. "Goodness gracious, Michael, you don't need to shout!"

"Oh. Sorry, buddy." He tried again. "Kitt? Do you read me?"

The dog nodded. This time, his voice came out of both the collar and the ComLink. "I read you, Michael. Over and out."

"Good," Bonnie and Devon said in unison. The elder leaned into a desk drawer and pulled out a manilla folder. _Oh man,_ Michael thought. The air grew electric with anticipation. _The Case File._ Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kitt's tail start to wag.

"As you no doubt have guessed," Devon began in his characteristic soliloquy. "This is your first case. It's a missing person's case."

Both the cop and his dog took on a stern and attentive demeanor. Their desire to perform and please created a unified drive between them.

"The missing person is a teenage girl, Kayleigh McMannon. She lives with her divorced father, who describes her as a long-haired brunette, 17 years old, 5'5", 115 pounds. She was last seen 36 hours ago by her father, who filed the report, and notes that they had had a fight immediately before she left. He waited for her to return, but eventually had to go to his late-night shift, and assumed he would see her again after school the next day. Teachers say she was unexcused absent the entire day. Friends haven't seen her, nor have members of the community. We have already deployed several K9 units, but they have not turned up any results. Her father is beside himself with worry. We need to find his daughter."

Kitt jumped in. "Do you have something with her scent on it?"

"One step ahead of you, Kitt," Devon replied. From the same drawer in his desk, he produced a ratty looking ball cap, along with a picture of the girl for Michael to memorize. Bearing the logo of the Los Angeles Angels, it had faded from its brilliant maroon color to a grungy fire-truck red. Inside the bill of the hat was written one word in black Sharpie: Kayleigh. Michael's heart sunk. He couldn't even imagine the horror that man was going through. He ran his eyes over the photo. It appeared to be a photo from her sports team: baseball. Judging by the worn corners, the father had been carrying this picture with him in his wallet. And the girl- she was beautiful, and one could see the intelligence burning behind her eyes. She had the nose of a fox, sharp and intuitive. The corners of her mouth curled ever so slightly, just like the Mona Lisa.

Kitt raised his head up to the hat and made his way around every inch of its surface, inside and out, taking deep inhales and pausing to memorize every niche of the scent. After a minute, he stopped and returned to his haunches. "I've got it."

Devon slid the file across his desk. "Alright, you two. I'm counting on you. More importantly, Mr. McMannon is counting on you. Find his daughter. Find Kayleigh."


	6. Kayleigh's Case: Part 1

Hello, my readers! It's been a while since I last uploaded, but that's because I have been working on this MONSTER of a story arc. My ultimate goal for this fic is for it to reach "novel" status (50k+ words), so I am experimenting with my writing style and trying to make it all longer and more detailed. This is the result.

This chapter is ~3k words, and represents part 1 (of 2, probably) of the "Kayleigh's Case" story arc. Because the whole arc is so long, I decided to split it for ease of reading. I have finals, and the night shift at the barn, this week/next, so uploading might be slow. But after that, SUMMER!

Please enjoy this chapter. I love this fic, and writing + sharing it is really enjoyable for me. Love, ~YeahScience

* * *

Dismissed by their Lieutenant, Kitt and Michael were in an unspoken race to the car. Kitt went running towards the Trans Am, but his human went to his comatose squad car instead. The puppy tilted his head and called, "Michael, are we not taking your personal car?" He also noted, with pride, the new emblem on the passenger door: "LAPD K9 UNIT." Complete with paw print.

Michael shouted over his shoulder as he fumbled with the ignition of the patrol vehicle. "Not today, buddy, this is official business. We're gonna take the cop car this time. Hop in," he added, opening the door for the pup. Kitt stared straight ahead and stayed rigidly and professionally still. The engine was a little slow on the uptake: took a couple sparks before the engine turned over. But when it did, it roared like a caged lion.

"Might I suggest you roll down the window?" Kitt murmured. "I might be able to pick up a scent." The cop did as asked. His K9 whipped his head out of the window; this time, there was no amusement in it. Kitt's demeanor had shifted dramatically. He was in full-blown work mode right now. He had been given a case and had every intention of cracking it.

 _Looking for a missing person is grasping at straws,_ Knight ruminated. Bitterness crept into his chest, as did doubt. _I hope we find her: for her dad's sake, as well as Kitt's._ The determination in the little Shepherd's eyes… _It would break him if we never found the girl._

"We're going to find her, Michael," the dog barked suddenly. Michael's jaw dropped as he swiveled his head to look at the pup in the passenger seat.

"Wait, can you read minds?"

The dog shook his head. His ears flopped around wildly. "No, I cannot read minds. But I can read facial expressions and human psychology. You are an open book, Michael. Like any average cop, you're worried that we won't find Kayleigh. But, unlike the average cop, you are also worried what that possibility entails for me. This is my first assignment, and you worry that, in the unlikely event of a failure, I will be discouraged from all subsequent cases. Rest assured, this is not true."

"It's not?" Michael balked. His dog's soliloquy was bringing tears to his eyes, for no particular reason. Maybe it was the little guy's insight?

"No," he barked. "We will find her."

The cop let his guard down momentarily. Concern and doubt flooded out. "But how do you know that?"

The dog stuck his muzzle out the window again. "Because I caught her scent."

The tires screamed in protest as the officer yanked the steering wheel as far as the crankshaft would let him. Poor Kitt yelped as he was thrown into the E-brake. His handler offered a short apology as the pair's car rumbled to a stop on the side of the road. Activating his hazards, Knight turned to his canine.

"You said you got her scent?" he asked. Every chamber of his heart fluttered as it inched up his throat.

Kitt furrowed his little doggy eyebrows. "It's faint and contaminated, but I definitely smell it. We should see where it goes."

Michael rolled the car into the nearby parking lot of a bar. Engine off, badge in pocket, gun: loaded, holstered, safety on. Kitt's vest was strapped on snuggly across his deep chest. They were ready for action.

Kitt leaped out of the car and stuck his nose immediately to the ground. As he sniffed around, checking for other possible scent trails, Michael surveyed the scene. This part of the city wasn't too great: there were a lot of bars in the area, which was rather dusty and grimy. The turgid grey clouds cast an unflattering hoary filter over the scene, vaporizing the particles of sweat, alcohol, and dust.

The dog let out a powerful bark to snag his cop's attention. The latter walked over to the former to assess the situation.

"I definitely smell her here," Kitt mumbled with his snout still to the sandy ground. "Lieutenant Miles said Kayleigh was last seen 36 hours ago? This scent is a little fresher than that. She was her maybe 4 hours after she ran away from home."

Michael bit his lip. "That would put her here in the later hours of the night. Not exactly a conducive environment for a teenage girl." His stomach dropped. "Where does the scent go, buddy?"

Kitt gestured with his muzzle. "Into the bar." The dog pelted off, trusting that his cop would follow. He did.

The inside of the bar was just as dusty as the desert outside. Being noon, there were very few customers. Just an older looking man in the corner, nursing a pint. The man behind the bar was stocky, bald, but had a thick brown beard. His apron was covered in stains of various ages and materials. His thick neck turned when the door rang as the police pair walked in.

"Sorry kid, no dogs allowed," the bartender rumbled in a trademark husky voice. In response, Michael held up his badge and waved his hand for Kitt to continue sniffing around the premises.

Immediately the bartender's demeanor changed; he held up both his hands in a submissive gesture and his face flushed even more than it was before. "Look man, I don't want any trouble," he whimpered. "I ain't done nothin' wrong." Michael remained nonverbal and motioned for the flustered man to put his arms down.

"Relax, sir, we know you haven't done anything. I'm here looking for a missing person: K9 picked up her scent here." The cop fumbled around in his pockets and produced the picture of the girl. "Have you seen this girl? Her name is Kayleigh McMannon. She has been reported missing by her father, who last saw her 36 hours ago." The scruffy man took the photograph. He scrutinized it silently for 15 seconds then redirected his attention to the cop.

"Yeah, I seen her. Came in 2 days ago to watch the baseball game. She ordered a lemonade and sat in that booth over there," the man pointed a finger across the bar. Kitt was already sniffing the seat and barked in conformation. He was telling the truth. "But once 9 o'clock rolled around, I had to ask her to leave. You know, can't have underage people in the bar after a certain time. I offered to call her a cab, but she refused. I was kind of worried about her, y'know? What's a 15-something-year-old kid doing out at bars at 9:00? When she left, I kinda watched to see where she went. She walked that way," he pointed.

Michael was taking notes the whole time. "Thank you very much, sir. This is very helpful."

"Hey, anything to help." The bartender paused. "Let me know if y'all find her, yeah?"

A nod. Kitt came trotting up to his partner's side, and they left together.

"Check to see where her scent trail went," the police officer told the puppy. "Make sure the bartender was telling the truth.

Kitt obediently tasted the air and inhaled great puffs of air. "He was telling the truth, Michael," he affirmed. "Her scent goes north: this way."

"Let's head back to the car. We can follow it faster that way. How old is the scent?"

Hopping into the passenger's seat, Kitt sniffed once more out the window. He grimaced. "It's stale, more than a day old. Even with my heightened sense of smell, we'll have to hurry if we want to keep it."

Michael twisted the key in the ignition and his car roared to life. It rumbled out of the parking lot as the cop followed directions from his dog. Apparently, the scent was heading northwest. Knight breathed a sigh of relief; _at least that's a friendlier part of town._

The path was winding and involved many side streets. _Kayleigh must have been following the sidewalks. Heading towards the downtown area._

His thought process was interrupted by the canine. "Michael?"

The cop turned to the German Shepherd, whose head was cocked in the stereotypical "confused dog" position. "Yeah, buddy?"

"Why would a child run away from their parent? I cannot think of a more illogical action. A human's guardian is the sole producer of food, shelter, support, really anything that humans require to function. I assume that children are aware of this as well. So what directs their thought process when they arrive at the conclusion that the most sound course of action is to leave?"

The air in the car grew very thick and it pulled down the cop's shoulders. "Wow," he muttered. "Well, um, there's not really an answer here, Kitt." Painful memories of adolescent fights with his parents flashed across the cop's eyelids. Days with verbal spars, subsequent nights spent in friends' tree houses, only to be found shivering and escorted home wrapped in a blanket and a parental embrace. Those days were all gone now. Dead. "Humans don't always act based on logic," was all he could say. "They act under the influence of emotion instead. Thinking of the short term and not the long term, you know?"

The dog's collar flashed. "I suppose." The cabin of the car grew silent once again. Palm trees flashed by as the car rolled into downtown LA. Great metal monoliths stretched above them and seemed to be holding up the heavens. The sky itself was equally gray: covered by cloud saturated with warm rain. Various people pattered around on their various tasks. Some were businesswomen, teachers, waiters, others fellow cops… all of them blissfully unaware of the talking dog in the car that just drove by.

"There!" Kitt called out, causing Michael to slam on the brakes and swerve into the parallel parking lane. Several neighboring drivers added their commentary on the matter. Kitt only bared his teeth at the drivers and puffed up his scruff in response. "Kayleigh's scent seems to be going into that building there, the stone one. The Los Angeles Public Library."

The great literary monolith loomed over the pair as they padded up, shielded by its shadow. Intimidation tipped back the super-dog's ears. The closer they went to the entrance, the more the building seemed to be keeling forward towards them. Even the hair on Michael's next stood up.

The outside of the building may have been intimidating, but the inside held treasures untold. Immediately, the smell of paper flooded Kitt's nostrils. He inhaled the scents in great gulps as his eyes surveyed the ornate ceiling, flooded with colors (No, he wasn't color-blind. Dr. Barstow had taken care of that.). On thick rows of shelves, tomes rested equally alongside modern novels and classic literature. Just like the books, an incredibly diverse patronage mingled together. A smile broke out on Kitt's muzzle.

Michael had been calling down to the dog the whole time. At first, the cop was annoyed at his supposedly super partner's inattentiveness. But when he realized that the puppy was experiencing culture for the first time and was totally enamored, he let the dog enjoy the scene in silence.

Gently, the Shepherd turned to his handler. "Michael, I picked up Kayleigh's scent. She was here yesterday night, maybe even later. We should track her position inside the library." The cop only nodded and let the dog do the work.

Kitt was taking them towards the stairs when Michael motioned for him to pause by the reference desk. The woman behind the desk discreetly put down her Dickinson collection and addressed the cop.

"Hello, Officer," she said in a low tone. "Is something wrong? Can I help you?"

He flashed his characteristic charismatic smile. "Hello. I'm Michael Knight. I'm looking for a teen girl who was reported missing a day and a half ago: Kayleigh McMannon." He handed over the photo, which the woman studied. "My K9 here picked up her scent heading into the library. Did you happen to see her yesterday?"

Still looking intently at the photo, the librarian answered. "Yes, I saw her yesterday. She was wearing a sports team sweatshirt, I don't know which team, and jeans. She did have a backpack, too." The librarian squinted to draw from her memory. "She went upstairs to the study room area." Kitt had already inched his way towards the stairs and was wagging his tail. Her face fell. "I'm sorry, that was the last I saw of her. I hope that was enough!"

Michael finished taking his notes. "This is great info, thank you very much." They exchanged nods and Michael walked away.

As he approached Kitt, others were too: a Hispanic woman and her young school-age son.

"Go ahead," the woman whispered to her son. "Ask the policeman."

Staring at his shoes, the kid asked in a sugar-sweet voice, "Mister, can I say hi to your dog?"

"Thank you for asking," Michael responded. "We're on a case right now, but I'm sure he wouldn't mind a little pat."

The kid beamed and dropped down to give the puppy a hearty scratch behind his ear. Kitt's tail wagged so hard it thumped a rhythm on the stone floor.

"What's his name?" the boy asked.

"His name is Kitt!"

"Kitt," the boy whispered to the puppy. The dog yipped and gave the boy a lick on the cheek. He giggled.

The adults watched the two kids play for a good two minutes before the mom spoke up. "Sorry, buddy, but we better get home," she said. The kid groaned, but stood up. "Say goodbye!" Her son waved at Michael and Kitt. "Thank you," his mom mouthed to Michael as they walked away.

Kitt bounded up the stairs so fast that Michael had a hard time keeping up with the pup. Only the human was panting when they arrived at the second floor.

"I smell her," he repeated. "It's strong, she was here, we're gonna find her…"

Until the dog led them to a dark, locked, and empty study room. The poor pup's heart sank to the bottom of his chest and his ears drooped.

"Don't worry, buddy, let me figure this one out," Michael walked away, leaving Kitt scratching and sniffing at the base of the door.

This time, the desked was occupied by an older, bearded gentleman who was busy typing away at the computer.

"Excuse me, sir," Knight began, "But do you happen to know who checked out that study room over there last night?"

The man looked up and down at the cop's uniform and pulled out a great white binder. Inside was a log of all who had come and gone in that room, and judging by the size of the binder, the dates extended well into the 80s.

With a bony finger, the man flipped through the pages until he arrived at yesterday's date.

"Says here that the last patron was a girl named Kayleigh McMannon," he grumbled. "Checked the room out at 9:30 last night, signed out at 11 when we closed. You want the key to have a look around?"

Michael nodded, took the key, and returned to his partner. When they opened the door, they found the room was not so empty: no Kayleigh, but clues nonetheless.

Kitt pounced on the book in the corner of the room. "Look at thith," he mumbled as he picked it up. "Batheball book. Kayleigh loveth batheball." There was a candy wrapper tucked in it as a bookmark. Baby Ruth.

"What's the scent tell you, pal?" Michael busied himself taking pictures of the scene and sending them to Devon.

"It's very strong, not particularly fresh though. I think she may have stayed the night here."

"How is that possible though, Kitt? The guy at the front desk said she turned the key back in at closing."

"The book, Michael. It's got marks on the side, like it was jammed in a door. Kayleigh propped the study room door open with it and hid until the library was closed, then snuck back in and stayed the night here."

The cop was speechless. Kitt took this as a compliment.

Kitt continued. "She stayed until opening, going by the age and strength of the scent. She must've left around 8:00 this morning. We're following her trail, but we're 7 hours behind."

Michael gritted his teeth. "We've got to make up that time before tonight. I don't want her wandering the streets at night again. Kitt, where do you think she went?"

"It's hard to tell," he mumbled. "Her trail winds through the entire library. But I believe she exited the same door she went in through."

With the library filling up, Michael and his dog had a hard time squeezing through crowds of people, most of which wanted to pet Kitt. Unfortunately, none of them were given the chance, as they were now on a strict schedule. _We_ have _to find Kayleigh before nightfall. She was lucky to have thought of the library, but odds say she won't come back for a second night. If we don't find her in about 6 hours, she'll be out on the LA streets after nightfall. Which means we have to make up 13 hours of time before then._ He shot a glance at Kitt, who did not return it, for he was face-first against the ground. _But if anyone can do it, it's him._

But when the pair exited the library, their hearts sank. The sky above them growled, paused, then released a curtain of warm rain. Kitt ran furiously in circles, trying to catch a grip on the trail he had spent all day following with his handler. But it was too late: Kayleigh's scent had been washed into the storm drain. It was gone.


	7. Kayleigh's Case: Part 2

Hey everybody. I got some really distressing news that otherwise ruined a day I had been looking forward to for months. I tried writing to ease some of the stress, but I think it really showed in this chapter. This one is rather dark and depressing, but honestly, if I didn't write to get this crap off of my chest, I don't know what would have happened.

*KITT pulls up and opens door*

Me: *gets in, collapses onto steering column, sobs*

KITT: There there, let it all out... on my dashboard… Aaaaaand, you're asleep. Okay. KARR, can you help me with this?

KARR: That's all you, bro. *Speeds away*

KITT: -_-

* * *

Kitt and Michael were speechless. Horror reached deep in their throats and ripped out all sound. It poked their skin with millions of needles and raised the hair on their necks. It grabbed ahold of their guts and pulled them all the way down.

There was nothing to do; the rain washed clean all of the ratty streets, taking the hope of finding Kayleigh along with all the grit and detritus.

The puppy stood in front of the drain, coughing and spluttering as he tried to drink in the last saturated vapors. He barked, then whimpered, then howled. Passersby stared.

"Kitt, come here," Michael ordered. The cop was taken aback when the hound hesitated. He shot a glance across his muzzle, but remained seated on the curb.

The police officer darkened. The anger in his gut bubbled up to his lips. "KITT!" He bellowed. The puppy's ears flattened against his tiny head and he bunched up in alarm. "COME, NOW!" Tail between his fuzzy legs, the dog heeled next to his handler.

There were, of course, thousands of people meandering the streets, but Michael felt a burning need to address his dog. He pulled out his phone and pretended to be having a conversation, when in reality he was reprimanding the pooch. "Why didn't you come when I called you?" Knight loomed over the German Shepherd. "That's your job!" The sharp words were like wasps swarming around Kitt. He offered to response: just let the swarm overtake him. The skyscrapers: they were all leaning in towards him, threatening to collapse and bury him in the rubble. _I dare you to,_ he thought. When he screwed his eyes shut, blue and gray streaked across his vision in an apathetic tango.

"Why can't you pick up her scent? Aren't you supposed to be some kind of super-dog?"

Kitt didn't give himself time to think of a logical response to the question. "It's just not possible, Michael! Following a scent trail is unavailing even in perfect conditions, but once the trail gets wet, everything is bogged down and washed away. Even with my enhanced senses, it is unreasonable to expect me to-"

"Unreasonable to _what,_ expect you to _do your job?!"_ Michael roared, drawing attention from citygoers even across all the lanes of traffic. The officer neglected to review his words before they barreled out of his mouth. "Tell me, if you can't do that, then what _can_ you do?!"

Wrong choice. The dangerous glint in Kitt's eye he first saw when the dog ran the agility trial? It flashed again. The pup's eyes became a deep dark void, muzzle shortening into a snarl. Pearlescent canines emerged.

"This," Kitt barked. With that, he whipped around on his hind legs and, with all the speed Michael had seen that second day, streaked down the block, then the next one, until the rainy mist swallowed him whole.

"KITT!" Michael called out, voice quavering under the weight of the realization. "Come back," he called out again, but the mist swallowed that too. Kitt had run away… _And it's my fault._

Michael dialed his phone with one hand and rubbed at the throbbing back of his skull with the other. Of course, Bonnie picked up, chipper as ever. "Hey, Officer Knight, how're things on your first mission? How's Kitt doing?"

He could only muster a whisper. "Kitt's gone."

For a few heavy seconds, Knight thought that his call had dropped as nothing but silence bounced between the cell towers. But Bonnie wouldn't let him get away that easily.

"What?" She was floored. Not just floored: sub-terranean.

"We got into a fight," Mike scrambled for words. "I said some things I shouldn't've said, he ran off-"

Bonnie was having none of this. "Come back to the station ASAP." The line clicked and died.

Michael returned to his car, shuffling in shame. Its narrow headlights seem to glare at him accusatorily, almost daring him to fess up. He could only shrug into the seat and slam the door. Rain pattered on the windshield. It looked suspiciously like tears.

He opted to take the long way to the station and turn the way he saw Kitt bolt off. There was no sign of the little Shepherd, however. His trail was just as dissolved as Kayleigh's. That didn't stop Michael from turning on his patrol lights, rolling down the window, leaning out at calling for the dog. He even added some "I'm sorry's" to sweeten the deal.

He arrived at the station alone. He didn't even make it into the building, for Bonnie and Lt. Miles were standing, arms crossed, in the parking lot in the drizzling rain. For them, this was all a cruel joke: something a disgruntled cop would do with his quite literal partner in crime to get back at administration after months behind a desk. They didn't truly believe in the situation until Michael slunk out of the car and slammed the door behind him, no paws.

Bonnie's arms dropped. "You lost him?" She roared. Michael flinched, while Devon remained as stoic as ever.

"He ran away, I-"

The vet's eyes flared just like her patient's. Within her petite body was housed the fury of a mother bear, staring at the man who she trusted, who lost her cub. Michael clenched his whole body in preparation for the blow.

"Why exactly did he run away? What did you do to him?!" Michael shot a glance at his lieutenant, but he offered no sympathy: just a blank stare and a shake of the head.

"We lost the scent trail, I got mad at him even though that wasn't his fault, we were both frustrated, and I snapped at him, he just took off running!" Michael's words came out as fast as his heart was beating, and about as fast as his partner had run away.

"Did you see which way he went?" Devon finally interjected.

Knight shook his head. "No, he took off too fast. I tried driving the direction he ran off, but nothing…"

Devon was wringing his hands. He took out a handkerchief to dab at the beads of sweat along the border of his receding hairline.

"We have to get him back," Michael broke out with resolve. He had gone through all the stages of grief: now he was ready for action, to right his wrongs. "Kitt is out there all alone and sad, and it's my fault. _I_ have to get him back."

Bonnie sighed and rubbed at the bridge of her nose. "That's all fine and dandy, Michael, but how do you propose to do that?"

Suddenly, a strange pinging, chiming sound sliced rhythmically through the air. The cop reached into his pocket to check his phone; in doing so, however, he saw that the gadget on his wrist was flashing red bars.

"The ComLink!" Bonnie cheered. She rushed to his side to examine her device. When she was the red LED pulsating on the screen, she whooped with delight. "Kitt has activated his homing beacon!"

"So we can find him?" Devon gasped. Bonnie nodded with her typical vivacity.

Michael didn't see the nod, however. He was already, and quite literally, jumping into his squad car and tearing out the parking lot, leaving nothing but two thick tire tracks.

He didn't make it far: Bonnie called.

"Michael," she began when he answered. "Do you know how to use the ComLink to find Kitt?"

"Nope," he replied. "I figured you could teach me over the phone. We have zero time to spare right now.

She just rolled with it. "Well, Kitt's homing signal constantly sends you his GPS coordinates. You can plug those into your squad car's built-in GPS and you'll be led right to him."

"Got it," Michael said shortly and hung up without another word from Bonnie. His dog was out there, alone, and needing him. Consumed with determination, Michael flipped a switch on his dash and the roof of his car lit up with red and blue flashes. From under the hood, the screeching siren erupted and turned heads as he literally sped down the streets. Luckily, neighboring cars pulled over and gave him right of way.

The coordinates on his car's GPS revealed nothing; Michael couldn't tell where Kitt was in the sense of city blocks. Right now, he was just a number. The way his car was directing him, though, suggested that he was on the outskirts of the city, the more suburban region. And his position was steady: unmoving. The back of Michael's brain feared the worst, but he didn't let the words form.

The ComLink was still pinging, so Kitt hadn't turned off his homing signal yet. And going from the GPS, the pup was only 3 miles away. _He's gotta be somewhere in this townhome complex,_ the cop reasoned.

Each tenth of a mile that ticked away on the GPS drove a stake to the driver's heart. He was now 1.5 miles away from his dog, the dog that he had metaphorically kicked right in the chest, when he was already down and out for the count. Now he had to own up, apologize, and hope his partner would forgive him.

That is, if he could find him.

The streets wound frustratingly around in a seeming enigma. Each turn led the cop away from the hound, but the following one brought him right back.

At .7 miles, he reached a cul-de-sac. The turnaround preceded a large, open grassy area. The straw-like glass glittered from the beads of rain dripping down them.

Kitt was in there somehow. _It's the only way._ There was no other option. _I gotta get out of the car and walk around, hope I find him._

The arid brush tickled at his ankles as the sound of insects permeated his skull, almost drowning out the rhythm of his pounding heart. This repetitive expanse went on for miles: at least it looked like it did. Soft gusts of wind created undulating waves across the roughage.

Michael, unlike his missing partner, was no tracker. From what he could tell at least, there were no clues to Kitt's location: no flattened grass, broken branches, giant flashing neon signs. Nothing he saw could lead him to the K9.

But there was something he heard.

Over the hum of the insects, the rustle of the brush, the ping of the ComLink, he heard the faint sobbing of a child. Not full crying; no, this was the kind of sniffly, hiccup-y whimpering of someone who had lost something. Someone that _was_ lost.

Obviously, the sound was quiet. Michael had to strain to pick up the direction from which it was coming. _Kitt wouldn't have any problem doing this,_ he thought bitterly. Eventually, he determined the source was coming from the left. Great trees reached up to graze the grey sky, unfortunately blocking the cop's view. Regardless, his mounting sense of urgency turned the ground to lava and forced him to run full-speed through the cache. He left his thoughts behind. Braches whipped at his face. Some even drew warm, viscous blood. Michael paid no attention. With each step, the sobbing became louder, the ComLink beeped faster.

Suddenly, the trees parted into a clearing. The brush was parted too, by someone who had run into it before Michael. But that person had stopped, fallen to her knees.

Kneeling in the clearing, sobbing softly, was Kayleigh.

Cradled in her arms was Kitt.


	8. Kayleigh's Case: Part 3

Hey y'all! This story arc ended up needing a 3rd part to tie it all together. I was feeling pretty crummy when I wrote this, so if it doesn't make sense, post a comment and I'll revise it when, *ahem*, things stay where they should. I just got a MAJOR job offer that will keep me busy (in a good way, I'm doing what I love!) for the whole summer, and it's finals week, then I'm moving into my new place... Goodness, am I busy! But I will try to publish frequently, because I love doing this too. :) Please R&R guys, it makes my day!

Me: KITT... Bring me water...  
KITT: Sure thing!  
Me: ...and a bucket...  
KITT: NOPE, not on my upholstery!

* * *

The German Shepherd puppy was resting his chin on the girl's shoulder, keeping watch like a sentinel. The girl held him in a gentle, yet firm embrace. Her hands undulated through the black and tan fur. Her body shook with a heavy sob, so she gave Kitt a squeeze. The puppy licked a salty tear off her face, and her body shook with laughter instead of misery.

The dog lifted his head and made unbroken eye contact with his partner. The deep and intelligent brown of the puppy met the ambitious steel blue of the cop and exchanged words that their mouths didn't have to.

 _I'm sorry,_ Michael's said _._

 _Me too,_ Kitt's replied.

Kitt returned his attention to Kayleigh. He pressed his little wet nose to her ear, causing her to turn around. Unlike the dog, when she saw Michael, her spirits fell. She let go her grip on the K9 and let him pad back to his handler where he sat in perfect obedience. Michael stood still and looked the girl up and down.

When Kayleigh stood, her once-brilliant brunette hair fell into limp, greasy strips punctuated with brush. Streaks of dirt painted her pale porcelain face and her grungy jeans/t-shirt outfit. Tears had scoured her eyes red, but remained just as sharp as her fox-like nose. Eyeing the cop, her mouth hardened into a firm line.

"Well," she shrugged. "You found me."

The last thing Michael wanted to do was escalate the situation. His best move was to play it cool, mimic the girl's attitude.

"Yeah," he sighed. "It kinda had to happen that way."

She shuffled from sneaker to sneaker. "What'd my dad say?" Her head keeled forward in what seemed like defeat. Kitt's sharp eyesight picked up on a few additional saline drops falling onto the bromegrass.

"How about we go back to the station and find out together, eh?" The cop continued to speak in a hushed voice, as though he were handling a skittish stray animal. Kayleigh was backed into a corner. Not really a corner though, since she had the whole clearing behind her, prime for the taking. That's what Michael was afraid of. With a discrete hand gesture, he signaled for Kitt to be at the ready to run after her. The dog slowly raised his haunches and focused on Kayleigh's feet.

Turns out, that wasn't gonna be necessary. Kayleigh extended two fists in front of her. "Go ahead, take me in." When neither the cop nor his dog made a move towards her, she lowered them. "What, you're not gonna cuff me?"

Michael chucked. "No, Kayleigh, I think that'd be a little much." Instead, he waved his arm for her to follow. "Let's get you back in the car and back to your dad, okay?"

Hands in her pockets, Kayleigh stared at her sneakers and sighed. She shook her head, then said, "Yeah. Let's go."

The walk back to the squad car was silent. Michael let Kayleigh walk a little in front of him so he could check her for injuries. Other than being pretty grungy, she appeared unharmed. Her shuffling walk was steady, hands jammed in her pockets. She had a habit of moving her jaw like she was chewing gum, even though there was nothing in her mouth. Kitt trotted alongside her in a human effort to provide comfort.

Michael, keeping one eye on the pair, pulled out his cell phone and typed out a text to Devon and Bonnie.

 _Found Kitt and Kayleigh, both fine. Taking everybody back to the station. See you in 15._

Eventually, the squad car appeared across the field, parked haphazardly along the curb. Realization finally set into Kayleigh. "Damn, I really screwed the pooch on this one." Kitt's ears perked up and his eyes went wide in horror. "Stupid." She spat. She stopped in her tracks. Tears were welling up in her eyes again.

Empathy grew in Michael's heart and pumped through his veins. "Hey now," he cooed. "I mean, yeah, this probably wasn't the best decision. But… I understand. Crap happens, sometimes we make mistakes. That's part of being human." He paused to consider what he was saying. _Am I doing this right? I'm kinda making it up as I go along._ "The other part of being human is forgiving people for their mistakes. Your dad loves you. I saw that at the station. All he wants is for you to be safe and happy, that's all anybody wants. We're just here to help."

Kayleigh remained silent and drank all of this in. She was a smart girl, really. School was easy, even with all the sports and clubs she was in. She had a few friends, but many more ambitions. Just in general, things had been worse since… since mom. These past two days marked the first time she had decided with her heart and not with her brain. _And look where that got me,_ she thought bitterly. "Thanks," she replied in earnest. The way her words trailed off indicated she was waiting for the cop's name.

"Officer Knight," he provided. "You can call me Michael."

She nodded sharply at the dog. "What's his name?"

"His name is Kitt," Michael said with pride, responding quick enough so the super-dog didn't have a chance. You know, to blow his cover.

"He's a good boy, you know," Kayleigh hummed, making her way towards the car again. The cop made it to the door first and, like a real gentleman, held the door open for her. She settled in and Kitt jumped right into her lap. The two humans laughed.

"He likes you," Michael added as he revved up the car. "I can tell."

She agreed over a giggle. "I've always been pretty good with dogs. Always wanted one, but it never really worked out."

"What breed?" Michael continued the conversation. They were now firmly on their way to the station. Kayleigh was engrossed in petting the dog.

"A German Shepherd like this one, actually." Kitt's ears perked up. He shot a smug look at his driver then turned back to lick at Kayleigh's small hands. She gave him a hearty scratch behind his ear that threatened to melt him into an elated puddle of puppy. Kitt was initially wary of the girl; anybody who willingly chose to act on impulse over logic was to be distrusted. But deep down, saving human life was his primary directive. If there was a single human out there suffering, the little puppy wanted nothing more than to save him or her. Kayleigh was no exception to that.

The ride was silent, but not awkward, until the eccentric group was about 10 minutes away from the station. Now panic was beginning to overtake the teen.

Her strained voice sliced through the solid silence in the car. "What am I supposed to say to my dad?"

The question caught the cop and the puppy off-guard. Neither had any legitimate advice.

Michael grasped for any semblance of advice, pulling random words out of the air. "Well," he began shakily. "I'd, uh, apologize first. Yeah, probably a good idea to say you're sorry. Remind him that you love him. Not gonna lie, kid, this probably won't feel too good. But think about it as a way to get closer to your dad? You both went through something terrible together, maybe this'll strengthen your relationship." He paused and thought painfully of his parents.

The silence returned. Kayleigh heaved a huge and shaky sigh when the car rocked as it turned into the station. Kitt nuzzled against her in an effort to calm the teenager.

Devon and Mr. McMannon were already in the parking lot. The face on that man was unlike anything that Michael Knight had ever seen. He had a look that was a heartbreaking mix of apprehension and relief. His whole stocky body was shaking in anticipation, hands wringing. The fear poxed his skin in the form of giant pink blotches.

His already fluttering heart tripped over itself when the car door popped open. The moment the father saw his daughter's sneaker, he ran towards her. His knees buckled as he ran, sending up sprays of gravel from the lot.

"Kayleigh!" He called out, voice cracking. In a paternal, yet non-masculine display, he blubbered and gasped in spite of himself. Liquid ran from his eyes and his nose, giving him an entire facial sheen.

Kayleigh stumbled away from the car, spluttering incoherently, and allowed herself to be snatched into the vice-like grip of her father's bear arms. The emotion and the force of the embrace forced a breathy exclamation from her lungs. The overjoyed father lifted his daughter several inches off the ground as though she were once again a toddler.

With the family's faces so close together, Michael had a hard time hearing their exchange. Kitt's superior ears heard the entire scene.

"Oh God, Dad, I'm so sorry-"

"Kayleigh, why?"

"Dad, I'm so sorry, I don't know-"

"Shh, it's over, I got you, God, I love you baby girl. I'm never gonna lose you again."

"It's not your fault, Dad, I did something stupid."

"Don't ever do that again, I was so worried!"

"I wasn't thinking! I will never, _ever_ , do this again. I am so incredibly sorry, Dad, I love you so much."

A pause.

"I love you too, Kayleigh."

The law enforcers stood around and watched the whole scene unfold. Devon had to reach into his pocket and produce a handkerchief to dab at tears that were inching from the corners of his eyes. Kitt whimpered slightly. Instinct told him to immediately run to the girl's side and lick the tears away, but something told him that now was not the time. This moment was for Kayleigh and her father.

Of course, after a respectful amount of time, standard operating procedure had to kick in. Devon slowly approached the father and put a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. McMannon, you can identify this girl as your daughter, Kayleigh McMannon?"

He coughed through a sob. "That I can, Lieutenant Miles. This is Kayleigh, all right." He pulled the girl in closer against his body in a protective, fatherly side hug. Kayleigh's face melted in relief.

Devon produced a small notepad and scribbled down a few hastily written words.

 _Case: KITT001_

 _Status: Closed_

 _Success_


	9. TEST: READ DESCRIPTION

Hey, is anybody else having problems with the servers? In all likelihood, the problem is on my end, since my university's wifi is garbage and my router is as close to a literal turd as one can get.

So, I posted another chapter of this fic, and it's showing up when I click on the story, but I didn't get any alerts or anything. The servers seem to think I last uploaded April 26. So to jog their memory, I'm posting this little blurb. Hopefully that clears up the problems.

Thanks! Happy summer! :D


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